


of wrong cars, phone numbers, & granny panties

by malahmente



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hiccstrid - Freeform, Wrong Car AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-23 08:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17679971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malahmente/pseuds/malahmente
Summary: Threatening a gory death on someone who just happened to be in the same care that looked like Ruffnut's was... not the way to go. Hiccstrid.





	1. the wrong car

**Author's Note:**

> more of me at malahmente @ tumblr.
> 
> un-beta'd.

This was—to put it lightly—a disaster.

“Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_ ,” Astrid swore under her breath, wanting nothing more than to put as much possible space between herself and the building where the blinding lights and pulsing bass were coming from. She pressed her phone to the side of her ear. “This is your fault, Ruffnut, the least you can do is fucking  _pick up_.”

She didn’t even ask for this. Astrid wanted to stay at home and maybe watch that new legal drama series Heather couldn’t stop talking about, something called How to Train Your Murderer, or something-or-other, or sleep, or eat, or something less tiring or painful to the feet. She glared at her red heels.  _Fuck you_ , she thought towards them with an amount of hostility that was uncalled for. The shoes did nothing to her, she realized. She chose to wear them.

She had to direct her rage toward a more appropriate outlet—namely the blond, long-pigtailed girl that lived in the room next to hers. A room she could rig with dangerous things that could go off in someone’s sleep.

"God damn it, Ruff,” Astrid snarled when the steady ringing turned into the automated voice of a lady apologizing that  _the number you dialed is busy at the moment, please try again later_. Astrid wanted to punch something, but forced herself to calm down. Okay, Ruffnut answered earlier and hung up, so maybe she’s on her way here. Maybe she was too busy driving. Yeah, that was good. That would keep her from committing homicide within the next thirty minutes.

But her agitation kept her from being still and before she knew it, she pressed the call button again, pressing the phone once again to her ear. “Ruff, please,” the blonde girl pleaded, pointedly ignoring stares of creepy men who passed by her. She huddled closer in her tiny jacket. “ _Please_.”

Once again the number was busy, and Astrid willed herself to not scream. She decided to cross the street and walk to the café that was still open at almost two in the morning, and she settled into one of the chairs outside. She glared at the club with all her might and pulled out her phone, texting Ruff that she was  _in the café across the street, Ruff, and I swear to every god out there that if you do not come for me, I will come for you_.

Minutes after she pressed send she pressed call again, and her furious tapping on the pavement was the soundtrack to her stress. Her body sagged in relief when a familiar car pulled up and parked in front of her. Astrid practically ran and pulled open the passenger door without looking twice, because holy  _shit_  she could probably kill Ruffnut right now.

She slammed the door with extra force and glared at the road in front of them, speaking as she buckled in her seatbelt. “I am going to kill you. I am going to gut you, slowly tear your limbs from your body and bathe you in your own blood. And while you squirm in your immense pain, I will be laughing. I will be laughing and selling tickets to your gory death. I swear, Ruffnut, I’m going to make you suffer for this.”

“Um. That’s… terrifying.”

That voice did  _not_  sound like Ruffnut.

Astrid swiveled her head to find a boy—taller than her, she had to look up in just the slightest just to look him in the eye—with a crooked grin but a slightly terrified expression, dark hair messy upon his head and glasses perched on his nose. He had green eyes that shone under the lights of cars passing by, and he had one hand on his seatbelt and another on the stick.

“Holy—” Astrid screamed, pressing against the car door, and the boy panicked.

“No! Nonono wait, no it’s okay, I’m not—” he squeaked, looking around, before lamely presenting his hands. “No weapons. Not—not gonna hurt you. See? It’s safe. It’s fine, you’re okay. I’m not a creep, I promise.”

“Who are  _you_?” Astrid seethed with complete malice, and the boy frowned, taken aback.

“Uh, I—Um, I own this car…?” He didn’t move, like how those guys on Animal Planet didn’t move when dealing with a rabid wild animal. “And you just… kinda barged in.” Astrid’s fury evaporated as soon as she surveyed the car. It wasn’t as messy as Ruff’s and you could see the floor.

“Fuck,” Astrid let out, slamming her head against the dashboard. “ _Fuck_.” She realized that wait, this wasn’t Ruff’s car and she wasn’t alone, so she bolted upright and started apologizing. “Holy  _shit_ , I’m so sorry—it’s just—oh, gods, I’m  _so_  sorry. I’m sorry. I’ve just—it’s been a rough night. I’m sorry.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and gathered her things. “I’ll be going.”

She felt a tentative hand on her arm and looked up to find even a more tentative smile on his face. “Hey, no, it’s okay. It’s fine, people make mistakes.”

“This entire night wasn’t even supposed to happen,” she said bitterly, and the boy pressed his lips together.

“Ah, okay—look.” He pulled his hand away and waved his hand in little gestures that seemed more like a personality trait than a nervous habit. “I’m—I was going to get coffee, but I’m pretty awake now, so…” he trailed off.

Astrid glanced at him, taking in his nervous smile, and noticed for the first time the strong jaw and the stubble as well as the tired expression underneath his eyes. She was probably wearing him out—this was her fault, anyway; she didn’t check the plates, she was too busy thinking up of ways to murder Ruffnut Thorston in her sleep to check the damn  _plates_ —

“I’ll just get out of your hair,” Astrid muttered, more out of shame than anything, and she reached for the door handle.

“No!” the boy suddenly cried, raising both hands. Astrid stopped and looked back at him. One of his hands rubbed the back of his neck. “Aha, um, no, it’s okay—I mean, this is okay. I really… don’t mind.” The statement sounded more like a question, and he cleared his throat. “I could drive you home.”

“What?” This was getting more ridiculous by the second. “ _No_. I can take a cab.”

He frowned this time, small and oddly concerned. “It’s almost two-thirty in the morning. I’m not letting you take a cab by yourself.”

“Am I any safer in here?” she shot back, and the boy pulled back, shaking his head.

“Yeah. Okay, yeah, you have a point.” He ran a hand over his face. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“Don’t I know it,” muttered Astrid, and she sighed with a shake of her head. “Sorry, too. It’s—this night’s been really shitty.”

After a beat of silence, he spoke again. “You have every right to… find me creepy—even though you’re the one who entered my car in the middle of the night,” he added in as a joke, making Astrid breath out a laugh, “But… you can trust me.”

She flashed him a skeptical look. “How? I don’t even know you.”

“I could say that it’s half past two in the morning and you’re running out of options,” he started, and Astrid laughed outright despite herself.

“Right.  _That’s_  going to work.”

He grinned at her, crooked and careful, and she decided that his face was friendly enough at two in the morning. “So I’m… not.” An awkward silence filled the car and she looked out into the nearly empty street.

“Sorry for ruining your evening,” she said timidly and quietly and so unlike herself, and she must be tired. It must be the shoes and her aching feet, or the supposed girls’ night date that didn’t show up, or the tens of guys she had to fend off to get a drink. She just felt so  _bad_.

“You really didn’t, trust me.” His grin melted away bit by bit the more Astrid stayed silent, and he cleared his throat. “Do you, um… want to talk about it?”

She raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Yeah, sure, talk about my problems to a complete stranger. Sounds good.”

“Yeah, it’s what is known as the highly effective method of ‘therapy,’” he said, tone as flat as a board, and she laughed so hard it made her eyes water.

“Oh my  _gods_ ,” she wheezed, clutching her stomach. She took a deep breath after her laughter died down, and she wiped the corner of her eye. “That was a  _good_  one, stranger.”

“Thanks.” He held out a hand, his green eyes bright underneath his glasses. “I’m, um, I’m Hiccup. Horrendous Haddock the Third—Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third—but Hiccup’s fine. Third year law student over at Berk U.”

Astrid eyed his outstretched hand and welcoming face. She must’ve taken too long, because the expression on his face faltered. Before he could pull away, she reached for his hand and shook it. “Astrid Hofferson. Fresh graduate.”

“It’s great to meet you,” he said, before pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “So, um, this is going to be weird, but—”

“Weird?” Astrid laughed. “Hiccup, how could it possibly get any weirder than  _this_?”

“But,” he continued, grinning, “I’m—would you like to go for coffee? Like… right now? My treat.”

Astrid took a moment before offering a small smile. “I—Yeah. Coffee would—that would be great. Thanks.”

 

 


	2. the phone number

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HTTYD 3 WAS SO GOOD, Y'ALL.

“So did you have sex with him?” was the first thing Ruffnut had asked as soon as Astrid was done with her story over breakfast, handing over the jam jar with the stuck lid.

Astrid took the jar and groaned at the question, more out of exasperation than embarrassment—Ruffnut  _always_ asked these kinds of questions. “No, Ruffnut, I did not have sex with him. We just  _talked_.” She glanced sourly at the girl across from her. “Talking to guys doesn’t  _always_ lead to sex.”

The other blonde, Ruffnut, clucked her tongue. She slumped over the kitchen counter, propping her chin on her hands. “That’s disappointing. He  _sounded_  like he was hot.”

Astrid made a face, harsh and curled in a snarl, and she was ready to launch into how ridiculously insensitive Ruffnut was being, at her, at the situation that she had conveniently left Astrid in, but then she remembered the hours spent in the coffee shop, leaving only when dawn cracked over the city.

Hiccup was funny, always armed with a joke or a quip that sent her either chuckling or in stitches. It began with the therapy comment, and he was just on a  _roll_. They talked and talked and talked—it was almost impossible how long it lasted. Three, four hours?

She tried to remember what they talked about—which, she realized, was actually a lot. He was talking up law in his father’s footsteps, deciding on whether to be a paralegal or a prosecutor; he had a cat named Toothless who was his ultimate best friend; he had a paper due in two days as of eight o’clock today; he was almost done with it—he just needed to iron out some kinks in his legal defense—but other than that he was good to go. It was like she already knew so much she knew about him, but at the same time not enough.

She traded information for some of her own—formerly a track star until that thing with her ankle, then she went into swimming; she once wanted to be a lawyer but her short patience could probably land her as a client instead of a representative; she had a greyhound named Stormfly. Relatively lame compared to his, which he vehemently denied, because she sounded “chill.” Whatever that meant.

He’d asked her a handful of times if she needed anything or if she wanted to go home, and she’d always said no but he’d get up and get her water or some tissue or order her a pastry or  _something_. Up to now, she didn’t know if it was exhaustion or inebriation that made her stare at his ass whenever he got up and walked.

He had a  _nice_  ass.

(However, she only had, like, three shots and was pumped full of caffeine. So maybe he  _objectively_  had a nice ass.)

Astrid shook her head—no ass comments here, not with Ruffnut listening. “He’s… okay, I guess.” She finally plucked off the lid and handed the jar back over, and Ruffnut had practically shoveled half the contents over her toast. Astrid reached over to put the lid back on the jar.

The long-faced blonde blew hair out her eyes as she spread jam aggressively over her toast—and hand. “Bummer. If he was cute, I’d totally hit that.”

Astrid scowled. “You are such a pig, you know that? You’re worse than your brother.”

Ruffnut sneered. “That’s the  _point_.”

Astrid shook her head at Ruffnut’s shit-eating grin, changing the subject. “Seriously.  _Why_ did you skip out on ladies’ night?” She paused for a moment before scowling. “Actually, no—why’d you  _abandon_  me?  _You_  invited me out!”

Ruffnut shrugged, licking some jam off of her thumb. “Astrid, I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this—but you’re  _hot_. And you’re  _single_.”

“So?”

“‘ _So_?’” Ruffnut glanced at her, features crumpled into disbelief. “You’re  _hot_  and  _single_. You should be  _mingling_.”

“I don’t want to ‘ _mingle_.’” Astrid frowned as she watched Ruffnut stuff her face with her jam-with-toast. “And stop emphasizing. I can practically hear the italics in your words.”

Thankfully, Ruffnut had the decency to swallow before she spoke. “So are you seeing this guy again?”

“What?”

“Did you change numbers or something?” Ruffnut took another bite of her toast, this time speaking with her mouth full. “Like, you’re going to see this guy again, right?” she said over her food with almost unbelievable clarity.

Astrid gave her friend a harsh grimace, unappreciative of the half-masticated food. “Ruff, you’re disgusting.”

The girl rolled right over Astrid’s commentary. “ _Are_  you?”

Astrid wanted to say yes. She wanted to say that she got his number, because he was and nice and funny and actually kind of cute, if you think about it, and it was her lack of sleep that gave her the courage to just say ‘fuck it’ and ask for his number at five in the morning when he was driving her home. She wanted to say she was seeing him again soon, she wanted to say she knew that he would rock the paper he was submitting in two days, she wanted to say that she was going to meet his best friend-slash-cat some time in the future, because he was honestly the most interesting guy she had met in  _months_ , if she was being lenient, and if she wasn’t, the most interesting guy she had met in  _years_.

“I don’t know,” Astrid admitted. 

“What? But you like him?”

Astrid shifted, slightly uncomfortable. “Yeah, kinda.”

“And you have his number?”

“Yeah.”

“So  _call_   _him_.”

“ _Me_?” Astrid shook her head. “If  _he_ was interested,  _he_  should call  _me_.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Astrid?” Ruffnut said, waving her butterknife as she spoke. A wad of jam flew to the edge of Astrid’s plate. “Sorry. But anyway,  _you’re_  the one with the vagina.”

Astrid stared, grossed out by the blob of jam. “So?”

“So,” Ruffnut said, digging into the jam jar after she flicked the lid off and slopping another wad on her second toast. “ _You_  call him. Vagina always makes the counter move. It’s, like, the rules of chess.”

“ _What_?” Astrid gaped at her friend. “That’s  _not_  how chess works.”

“Whatever. That’s not the point. The point is  _you call him_ , because he’s made a move—”

“He has?”

“ _You have his number_ ,” Ruffnut pressed, taking another big bite of her jam-smothered toast. “It’s  _your_  move.”


End file.
